


Randomized DEH Oneshots (I honestly don’t know who’ll like it but it’s here)

by Treebros_Intensifies



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, Bisexual Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Bisexual Evan Hansen, Bisexual Zoe Murphy, Fluff, Gay Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Gen, IT’S JUST ALL DEAR EVAN HANSEN STUFF, Idk it’s easier to write I think, Im not sure how much but there will be some, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Jared I don’t honestly know, Multi, No consistency with 3rd and 1st person, Oh yeah things will absolutely be out of character the first few posts, Slow To Update probably, Tws come before the chapters themselves, for some stories at least, oh yeah lots of that probably, serious tags now, this will be fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:55:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28836684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Treebros_Intensifies/pseuds/Treebros_Intensifies
Summary: A collection of things I’ve written but I’m not sure if I’m going to be posting any of these as a stand-alone thing or not because lack of motivation is a piaORYou can ask me to write things because I’m forcing myself to get out of this stupor by making this book.
Relationships: Alana Beck/Zoe Murphy, Connor Murphy & Zoe Murphy, Evan Hansen & Connor Murphy, Evan Hansen & Jared Kleinman, Evan Hansen & Zoe Murphy, Evan Hansen/Connor Murphy, Evan Hansen/Jared Kleinman, Evan Hansen/Zoe Murphy, Jared Kleinman & Connor Murphy, Jared Kleinman/Connor Murphy, Miguel (Dear Evan Hansen) & Connor Murphy, Miguel/Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 11





	1. If Anyone Wanted To Request Stuff Before I Clog This Book With Idiocy Then Go Ahead

Hahahaaaa back with something else my guys (gals and non-binary pals—I don’t want to be exclusive)

So as the summary says

This is maybe a combination of my own idiocy and suggested things I don’t know who wants to comment but yeah.

Fair warning though I’m 90% sure my ability to write has gone down back to fifth-grader levels because I am very not proud of anything I turn out.

Then again this is to try and not hate everything I make so let’s gO HAHA

Updates will sporadic as always but I’m forcing myself out of this lack of motivation phase so please do request something—

...I’m not doing smut though  
Uhm. No any incest or pedophilia or beastiality. Those. They’re big nonos in my books.

I will do AUs though  
Just specify which one(s) haha

...  
Feel free to ask away lmfao I’m tired and at school


	2. Grinning Idiots

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one asked but hey here’s minimal content
> 
> Your usual Treebros cheesiness
> 
> Potential Tw: Mentions of past suicidal ideations

Connor was in an auditorium, surrounded by other people in formal attire. A guy in a green blazer was on stage and finishing a speech, and making to open the black card in his hands. 

“And this year’s winner for Best Musical is,” he opened it. “Window Waving.”

What the shit. Was the first thing Connor thought of. Followed by: Wait. We won? Then: We really won. And lastly: Where’s Evan? 

A firm (but sweaty) hand clasped his own, alerting him to his partner’s existence and location, and slowly they (and the rest of the cast of course) made their way to the stage. 

He was here. Not a fantasy. Not a dream. Connor Murphy won something. He helped people. He had people with him. He wasn’t alone. He let people know

He managed to get up the steps, and suddenly his face cracked into a smile. A full-tooth crooked smile revealing the dimples he always hated but Evan thought were cute.

He looked out across the audience.

If you asked him what career he’d pursue after high school, Connor would have said he didn’t know. Which wasn’t exactly a lie—he’d planned on killing himself the day he turned 18. Then…things happened and his birthday came and went. He didn’t end up committing suicide. 

The things that happened were Evan Hansen (a kid in Connor’s year), and a letter Evan had written to himself. It was a depressing one, definitely. Saying things about that day not being a good day and wondering if anyone would notice if he just disappeared the next day.

Connor read it and…he got it. The feeling of being so fucking alone and invisible he might as well not have existed. He talked Evan through that day’s feelings—earning them both detention for skipping class, but making an…acquaintance. Even after pushing Evan to the ground, he didn’t mind talking to Connor about things.

He had nudged Connor to start talking—it didn’t have to be big either. It could be about a book he read, or a stupid image he saw scrolling online. He could ramble about an amazing character arc from an anime-like show from the 2000s that Evan’s never watched, and still hold most of his attention. 

And when they were close enough, he had Connor talk about deeper things. He returned the favour Connor had given him the first time they met for real. Evan would also confide in Connor about things, like sensory overloads, anxiety, and his insecurity with his identity. And soon they had a (metaphorical) two-way street between them.

Soon, January 11th passed, and Connor wasn’t dead. Then he said the end of school—because clearly something would happened between him and Evan by then, right?   
Wrong. And by now, Connor was catching feelings. 

He began to try. It was difficult, with all the stuff he was still struggling with, but he wanted to be better for Evan. The setbacks bothered him less and less over time, and any dates he’d set slowly became less relevant. He fixed what he could with Zoe—it wasn’t like they were besties all the sudden, but they were back on speaking terms. It took longer to reconnect with his parents, but at least he could ask them questions again without them being suspicious. He’d forgotten that feeling.

Then through everything, Connor stayed there for Evan; learning what his then friend needed and when, or what made things worse and why. He let Evan cry on his shoulder or into his chest when he could. It was the least he could do, after all. 

Soon he picked up some hobbies; auditioning for minor performances, drawing, playing the old guitar he’d had since he was a kid (and frankly forgot the existence of for years on end). 

He wrote songs sometimes. Got popular. Evan did the high notes in the recordings. 

The musical came from a late night, where Connor had a resurgence of self-hate and spiralling. He asked Evan what he would have done if he’d actually ended his life that day in the computer lab. And the story spun itself from there. 

They’d asked Zoe for help with lyrical content, Connor put his English literature major to use, and Evan got answers from Connor’s parents about what they would have done had their son successfully committed suicide. 

The planning took up plenty of time, but the final result…standing here…it was worth it. If you asked Connor. 

Once the applauding died down, the two grinning idiots walked to the podium up together. Connor thanked the announcer quietly. 

Before he spoke, Evan entwined his fingers with Connor’s and squeezed. He held Evan’s hand tightly as his fiancé began.

“I don’t think a-anyone up here with us would be here right now if it weren’t f-for that letter to—to myself. I have to thank my mom for having me write them. And my fiancé for finding it. I—it was a cheesy turn of events, I’m sure. I, well I wholeheartedly believe it was w-worth every, every setback and risk. I’m glad it happened, I-I think. I, I also have to thank the people who stuck with us through the—well our questionable decisions.”

Connor nodded and let his smile die down to a small grin. It felt weird, being up here with someone who was a total stranger to him those nine years ago. But it also felt right. 

Really fucking right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this could always have been written worse I think 
> 
> Kudos and comments are welcome but not required of course 
> 
> Stay safe y’all I appreciate you, haha


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning it’s uhh pretty out of character because wow it’s been a while, hasn’t it
> 
> Requested on ao3  
> ....I just realized how long it’s been since I’ve written something like this  
> V mild angst and hurt/comfort in a blink and you’ll miss it form
> 
> Also TW(s): 
> 
> -Not extremely graphic suicide, but the build up is described

It’s dark. The street lamps barely light anything up, and cars drive through so few and far between I might as well be standing on a curb to the void. But across the street, I can see someone standing in front of a side street that’s somehow darker than our surroundings. I have the sense I should know who they are.

Why am I wearing my school uniform?

Then a flash from the passing car reveals chestnut hair, pale skin, and almost all black attire. I can see blue eyes reflecting every little ray of light, scrunched eyebrows, and a hard set jaw.

“Connor?” 

The shadows in the alleyway behind him swirl, inky tendrils leeching out and absorbing the bricks on the buildings. He looks in my direction, eyes seeming to pass through me, like he didn’t hear. 

He walks into the shadows, and I run after him. He’s talking to another kid, a nineteen year old who could easily be described as a zombie. (He has a dealer?) Sunken eyes, almost gray skin, thin and sinewy. Connor takes a bottle and gives the person a wad of cash, waving them off and continuing down the alleyway. Again, I go after him. 

Connor makes a sharp right turn and heads towards what I realize to be the local park. He sits down on a bench and takes out his phone. I can’t help but look at his screen. It’s our dms. 

_**I miss you** _

His shoulders shake, and in the low light of the stars I notice water drip onto the screen. Connor’s hands tremble and more water—no, tears—drip onto his phone and pants. My eyes are drawn to the bottle he’d picked up from the zombie. 

In a flash of realization, I scramble for my phone. My fingers moving on their own accord; punching in the password, and scrambling to find messages. They get to our dms, and I frantically try to type. 

I glance over to Connor. He’s aggressively wiping his eyes with his shaking palms. The bottle is right next to him, and I read the labels. I…Connor…he’s planning to not live through this, isn’t he.

Connor slips his phone in his pocket and cracks open the bottle. He discards the cap, and I turn away. 

I can’t look. I can’t. I don’t want to see my friend take his own life. 

I hear him stumble and get up. Something thuds into the trash can and I hear Connor walk back to the bench. I manage a peek back. 

He’s sitting in a way that makes him look like he had just passed out, and he would be getting up in an hour or two to go home. I watch his chest rise and fall, slower and slower, until it stops. 

Bile rises in my stomach, and my eyes begin to sting. 

Then the scenery changes. 

I’m standing in a black room with invisible walls. The floor is clear, and I can see stars through it—glimmering and shining away like nothing’s wrong. 

Across from me is an apparition of Connor, standing so still I almost missed it. 

“That was your fault,” It says, turning to face me. “I died because of you.”

I shake my head. It’s a dream, right? Connor isn’t actually here. This is my guilt. This—this isn’t really true. It’s not cause and effect. It’s cause and correlation. There are other things at play. Right?

“I’m fucking real, Miguel,” Connor says. “I killed myself and you’re the only thing to blame. There was no third party, no secret twist, just you and me and a choice. You chose wrong, and I fucking died because of it. Because of you.”

I almost believe it; that I should have replied. That I should have said something. And now, Connor is gone. Forever. Because I could have done something but didn’t. 

“You can’t hide from the god damn truth forever,” he snaps. “One way or another, you’ll see.”

“You’ll see how you killed the only spark of hope I had.”

“Not replying was a mistake, and you fucking know it.” 

_It’s your fault._

_You did this._

_Fuck. You._

The ground opens up, and I fall. White flashes whir by my head as I plummet. I see glimpses of different things, and I hear things. 

**_I miss you._ **

《【】》

I wake up screaming.

Something moves beside me, and the light flickers on. 

“Holy shit, _mi rey_.” a familiar voice interrupts my freak-out. 

I look around. I’m not at home. The walls are lined with bookshelves stuffed to maximum capacity with novels, papers, and magazines. The sheets are white, and the comforter is black with white stars patterned across. The sky is dark, but I can tell the sun will be rising soon. 

I’m not in my school uniform (actually I’m in nothing but boxers and an oversized t-shirt) anymore, and it isn’t midnight. I’m not in the main city or the park. I’m in a house. And…right I’m not even in school anymore. 

Senior year…that was years ago. My hands clasp together and I notice something on my finger. I look down and…right. A silver and black promise ring is coiled around my left middle finger. 

The person next to me sits up.…Connor. _Connor_.

He isn’t dead. He’s okay and next to me. 

“Nightmare,” I sigh. “Sorry about waking you up.” 

“It’s alright, Miguel. I wasn’t exactly asleep.”

“Did you—why weren’t you…? You should try and rest—” I cover my face and groan. It’s not exactly like me to mess up my words.

“Insomnia,” Connor replies simply. “What was the nightmare about?” 

“You,” I say without thinking. “Not like that, just…my brain was guilting me again. For the senior year incident.”

“Oh,” he thinks for a minute. “Want to describe it?” 

“I, well I was at Hanover, and across the street I saw you standing there. You went into an alleyway and got a bottle of…something, and you went to a park and overdosed,” I swallow down the fear and continue. “Then the entire scene changed and you started yelling and blaming me.” 

Connor blinks, narrowing his eyes and aggressively staring out the window. His eyes reflect the light and look almost like jade. 

“I don’t blame you,” he says after a while. “I’ve told you that but I can’t stress it enough. I was really just low, and…well, saying I jumped to conclusions about you and me is a little bit of an understatement.” 

I nod. “I know, but it felt so fucking real I started to believe I pushed you over the edge. I, I’m sorry.”

Connor pulls me into an unexpected but not unwelcome hug. (It’s been his thing. If he doesn’t know what to say he’ll do something physically to make up for it). I lean into his warmth and let him in all his boniness hold me there. Him yelling “fuck you” is still ringing in my mind, but it’s quieting down (thank whoever).

“I had a dream like that too,” he mutters quietly. “But I was me, and I didn’t have any control over myself. I knew you were there, but I couldn’t…I couldn’t do shit. I—well you know I hate not being in control of myself.”

I pull away and give him The Eyebrows™ (they spook everybody—apparently they make me look like a disappointed Hispanic elf king). “I thought you said you didn’t sleep.”

“Thirty minutes doesn’t count as sleep, _pendejo_.” He retorts. 

“True,” I say, raising my hands in surrender. “Unhealthy, but true.”

Connor gives a small half-smirk and looks away. I follow his eyes and…oh that is pretty. 

Out the window, the sun is just peaking over the horizon, and it painted the sky brilliant shades of yellows, oranges, reds, and purple. We sit in silence and watch the sun continue its path into the sky. And some of me is glad I woke up when I did. And the dream—it isn’t bothering me much anymore. Not even the “fuck you”. 

The two of us sit in bed watching the sunrise for about thirty minutes before Connor decides to say something.

“…so the sun’s up and we’re both not getting any sleep anytime soon…” he pauses. “Movie marathon? Could just be the two of us.”

He quickly adds onto his sentence. “Or we could invite the others over, of course, I wouldn’t mind, just saying.” 

“No, no, it can just be us,” I smirk. “I have some ideas on what we can do.” 

“Of-fucking-course you do, you bastard.” 

“Says you, _principito_.” Connor’s face flushes and I laugh.

“I question why I even stick around sometimes.” He huffs, kicking off the covers and walking over to a wardrobe in the corner. I stick around in bed a few minutes longer.

“Love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please critique the crap out of this I need to improve ty
> 
> I thank anyone who reads this haha kudos aren’t exactly mandatory but are appreciated
> 
> And uhm stay safe, y’alls


End file.
